


renegades

by CharlemagneGryffis



Category: Class (TV 2016), Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Sarah Jane Adventures
Genre: Gen, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 05:12:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8358640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlemagneGryffis/pseuds/CharlemagneGryffis
Summary: Charlie & Miss Quill, character study (apparently, never classed anything as a character study before...)





	

It happens when you see her facing down a monster. April is trying to get you to run, tugging at your jacket as you try to reach her – “C’mon Charlie!”

But you’re just shouting for her.

“Miss Quill – Miss Quill!” The monster gets in a hit, slamming her against a wall of lockers, her head banging up against the dented metal hard enough to immediately leave behind a trace of dark liquid. “ _MUM!_ ”

You can’t believe what you just said yourself, and you go slack, almost, giving April the chance to pull you away. You stumble, before Ram opens the large glass doors for you all with his cyber-foot, hands too busy carrying an unconscious Tanya to use, and you exit the building. Luke and Sky wait outside for you in their mother’s green car, and you all bundle in, laying Tanya across your laps, Ram cradling her head so it didn’t bang against the door.

“Where’s Miss Quill?” Sky demands, reaching over through the gap in the seats to scan Tanya with her sonic lipstick.

“Sky, turn back and sit down properly,” Luke chastises her as she finishes her scan, car already zooming down the road. “Miss Quill’s fine, she always is.”

But you have this feeling of dread that sits in your neck terribly. You’ve felt this before, when your mother was killed in front of you, and for some reason it’s acutely _worse_. But you do know why, you know _why this feels terrible._ You put Miss Quill in that position. She’s _enslaved_ to you. She has to protect you, or she dies.

She’ll die tonight anyway.

You shake, burrowing your face in your hands, silently screaming into the night.

_MUM!_

* * *

Next morning, you go to Physics first thing, knowing that there isn’t a class in until fourth period – your class. You stare at Miss Quill at where she sits at her desk, heat pack laying on the back of her head that she tilts forwards, skipping through pictures of terribly-drawn green frogs on her tablet.

“Miss- Miss Quill?” You grip the doorframe tightly, staring at her with wide eyes. “Miss Quill-”

“Oh, you’re alright, great,” she glances at you, rolling her eyes before continuing in a scathing voice. “Of course. Your lousy group of _friends_ get you out of this hellhole- what are you doing?” She’s tense in your grip. “Charlie, what are you doing?”

Your eyes sting with tears as you hold her tightly, hugging her for all she’s worth. “I’m so sorry we left you behind. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well, uh…” She falls silent, and you let go of her after a long moment, taking the heat pack off her head and brushing her hair out of the way, checking out the magnanimous, legend-worthy mark on the back of her head. You poke it. She jerks – “Ow.”

“At least you’re feeling pain,” you murmur, knowing enough about your physiology to understand that if she wasn’t feeling pain, something was very, _very_ wrong. You brush your hand along the tiny scar beneath it – it’s open, and a paper-towel beneath it is crusted with dark purple blood. “You didn’t run.”

“Why would I?” For a moment you freeze. Does she know that the creature in her brain is dead? Rotting? Gone? That there currently resides a leaking ball of poison in the back of her head? “Charlie,” she turns, looking up at you, eyes aware and dark. “I heard what you said last night. And while I find it atrocious that your affections turn in that direction, I find myself bemoaning the fact that I…reciprocate.” Her lips curl slightly, but you’re smiling.

You hug her again, and she grumbles, before pushing you away and placing the heat-pack back on her neck. Something sparks in your brain – the poison would solidify without application of warmth.

She knows.

The bell rings.

“You should be in class.”

You take a step back.

She _knows_.

A roll of her eyes – “Get to class. Now. Before I have to give you detention.” You smile and leave the physics block.

When you get to your study class, your supervisor rolls their eyes and holds out a pen for you to sign in – and for once, signing _Charlie Quill_ makes you smile rather than feel overwhelming guilt. When you sit beside April, and she asks why you were late, all you say is: “Miss Quill’s alive.”


End file.
